Post 16

“All your children here in their rags of light.”

Leonard Cohen

Die before you die and all your problems disappear.

The heart like a volcano subdued by the gentle steering wisdom of the mind rooted in quiet certainty…that remains.

Nothing less. Nothing more.

The ashes of lack scattered to the four directions under a gentle rain.

A rainbow appears.

And you realize: this is Eden.

No escapist fantasy. It is here. Buried in the wilderness of your mind.

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